Bridges
by Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain
Summary: Sequel to Finding Family. Eight years later, guess who's coming to visit. R for language, same warnings as for that story apply here.
1. News

Disclaimer: I do not own _Enterprise_ or its characters. I make no money from these works.

Author's note: Ivy is my creation however. Timeline is eight years later than Finding Family. If you haven't read that story, it might make some things from this one easier to understand. Thank you to my ever patient beta readers, silvershadowfire and gaianarchy. This is not the mess I sent them, what you see is an example of what a great editor can accomplish. Which is not to say that they wrote this… they just sanded it smooth and demanded more detail and definition. Believe me guys, I appreciate it more than you can know.

**Bridges**

Chapter 1: News

"He's gonna kill us."

I'd like to argue with Jon, but he's probably right. Daddy probably_ is_ going to kill us when he finds out what we've done. Nonetheless, we clamber up the steps and in the door, because Daddy's going to find out sooner or later, and it's better we take him in a two on one.

We find Daddy in the kitchen, looking nervous. This is _not_ good, because if Daddy's nervous, he's afraid how _we'll_ react to something, which means that Daddy thinks he's done something bad, or at the very least, worse than normal.

"Jon… Ivy…" He's twitching his fingers like he wants to say something and is holding himself back.

"Yes, Trip?" Jon's looking a little nervous too. He was prepared to argue with Daddy, but now he's not sure what's going on. Now might not be the best time, it might just push Daddy over the irrational edge.

"I've just finished working everything out, but…" Daddy takes a deep breath, looking straight at me. "Ivy, your mother and your brother are going to be staying with us for about two weeks."

"What?" I'm so shocked I can barely manage the single gesture. Then I get mad. This is _totally_ unfair, I've got a ton of things planned for the summer, and I don't need them messed up by family. "Daddy, what do you _mean_ Lorien and Mother are coming here? How can they be coming here? They live on _Vulcan_, Daddy." Once or twice, Daddy's tried to send me back there to visit, but he gave up after the suggestions kept bringing on my panic attacks. But in all our eight years here, they've never _once_ suggested coming to visit us. It's an arrangement I've been fine with, because Jon and Daddy and I have been busy creating our own family. In fact, one of the best things in my life was Mother giving up her claims for custody, so Jon, Daddy and I could _be_ a family.

"Earth is hosting a conference that your Mother is going to be attending. Since it's in San Francisco, I offered her the option of staying here, rather than in a hotel or at the Vulcan compound. She agreed." Whenever Daddy speaks very slowly and clearly like this, it means he knows I'm going to fight, and he doesn't want to. "Now, I figured that T'Pol and…" He coughs. "T'Pol can use the guest-room and Lorien can share space with Ivy. We can put a cot up there or something…"

"Daddy, you are such an ass." There is no way I'm sharing my room with Lorien, I didn't even do that when we were on Vulcan. Given that the last time I saw my brother he was trying to beat me up, I hardly think that I am being unreasonable about the subject.

"Ivy, now the decision has been made. They are coming here and they are staying here, is that clear?" He vocalises and uses his hands, both saying the same thing.

"I bet you didn't even ask Jon." I'm sure he didn't which gives me an edge. After all, if it's a family thing, it should be a family decision.

Jon coughs a bit himself. "No he didn't, Ivy… but I don't see why it should be such a big problem. It's just for two weeks, and I knew your Mother as well…"

"Right. Just abandon me on this. See if I care." I give both of them glares now… so much for Jon being on my side. "I'll just go stay with Auntie Nic and Uncle Malcolm then. Georgia ought to be far enough away."

"I don't think so," Daddy answers. "I think you'll be staying right here. And being happy about it."

"You're not just an ass, Daddy, you're an _asshole_." I turn around and storm out of the kitchen, stomping up the stairs towards my bedroom.

"You know Jon," Daddy complains, "When I had my dreams of becoming a parent, somehow this was the part I always blocked out."

I can hear the humour in Jon's voice. "Teenagers?"

"Teenagers."

I give Daddy a reply, even though I know he can't see it. Which is probably better, because it's one that would get me into more trouble anyway.

"So… Jon. What were the two of you up to today?" Daddy's tone changes, now he sounds suspicious.

I pause on my way up the stairs. _Uh-oh_. Jon could be in trouble on this one, and I might have to go back and help him. After all, I do have a stake in this, and just because he knuckled out on me…

"We were…" I have to get closer and really listen to hear Jon's reply. "…we were…" He coughs again – this entire family seems to be coming down with colds. "… car shopping."

"I see." Daddy puts on his 'Commander' tone, which shouldn't mean much to a former captain, but Jon knows that this time he might actually be in trouble, and he can't pull rank any more. "Would you care to elaborate on that for me?"

"Well, we might have…"

I hear Daddy walk out into the living-room where he can look out the window and onto the street. "Jon… what's that parked outside?"

"It's… um… it's… it's got really great traction and control, Trip. I mean it handles like it's attached to the road…"

"You bought my daughter a _sportscar?_" By the time he reaches the end of the sentence, Daddy's screaming.

"It's a great car, Trip. I test-drove it myself. Like I said, it handles great, the auto-nav system is top of the line…" Jon's trying to use a soothing tone, but it's not working.

"You bought my sixteen-year-old daughter a _sportscar?_ Are you insane?"

"Our sixteen-year-old daughter, Trip. _Our_."

"You know, I'm really beginning to regret that." Daddy says darkly. I know he doesn't really mean that, one of the best times in both of our lives was when Jon decided to adopt me. "You're taking it back."

"Come on, Trip… it's a great car."

"Jon…"

"It's good on fuel, it's safe, it handles like a dream. Do you really think I'd get Ivy something dangerous?"

"Jon…" I can tell by Daddy's tone that Jon's resorted to what he refers to as 'unfair tactics,' which is okay, because they tend to work. This is why Jon wins more arguments with Daddy than Mother ever did.

"You want our little girl… to have a safe first car… and I'll teach her how to drive it…" From the pauses I can tell Jon's playing _really_ unfair. Which is okay, because I _really_ like the car.

"You know," Daddy tries to complain, "_I'm_ supposed to be the impulsive one here, and you're supposed to be the stable, reasonable one."

"Come on, Trip. I know you had a good car at her age…" Which, knowing Daddy, is probably not the most persuasive thing to say, but it doesn't sound like Jon's using words to persuade him.

"Jon… that is hardly a rational argue…" Either Daddy shuts up, or Jon shuts him up, but I have a pretty good feeling that I'm going to get my car. I go upstairs to give them some time to finish their discussion in private… I think they might need it.

When I come back down later, Daddy's looking pretty disgusted with himself, but Jon looks smug.

"I'm getting my car, right?" I start helping myself to dinner, only pausing to talk.

"Yeah." I don't see why Daddy should be so mad at _me_. I mean it's not mine and Jon's fault that Daddy can be so easily manipulated. I tell him so, and Jon laughs.

"You know, I think you're getting a little to well informed, young lady." Daddy glares at me. "Just what are they teaching you at that school, anyway?"

This makes Jon laugh some more, and me too. For someone who's been married twice – once to a member of an alien species and now to Jon – and is the biological parent to two children (that I know about... Jon keeps mentioning something about a Xyrillian every now and then), Daddy can be very old-fashioned about some things… which is why I haven't gotten around to telling him that I even _have_ a boyfriend, let alone that we've already had discussions about sex. There are just some things Daddy needs to be protected from.

"But…" From this I know I'm not going to get away clean. "I don't want to hear any argument about your Mother and Lorien coming to visit. In fact, right after dinner I want you to go upstairs and start getting your room set up so he can stay in it."

I sigh and nod. It's not really fair, but it's probably the only way I'm going to be able to keep the car. And after all, he didn't say I actually had to talk to them. With luck, I won't be spending enough time here for it to matter anyway.

After dinner, I go up to my room and try to look at things from the perspective of a Vulcan. Obviously there are some things that will need to be changed if Lorien is going to be staying in here – Daddy and I agree on that at least.


	2. Greetings

****

Disclaimer: I do not own Enterprise or its characters. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's notes: Thank you for the reviews, everybody. And thank you, especially and as always to my beta-readers. Especially since this chapter seriously changed from what it was going to be, and they caught all the stuff I forgot to edit. I hope. I'm pretty sure they did.

**Chapter 2: Greetings**

****

I'm up in my room, getting ready to go out, when the doorbell rings. I peek out my front window, and see Mother on the front step. The tall blond person with her must be Lorien. Well, I wasn't planning to stick around. It's just a question, now, of when I'll be coming back. I put some finishing touches on my room, then get going.

As I head down the stairs, I hear Jon opening the door and bringing the guests inside. I head straight for the kitchen and the back door, to make my getaway before I have to be polite.

"Hold it right there, young lady." Daddy's waiting for me in the kitchen, with his arms crossed over his chest.

I stop and adopt the same pose. He can't make me talk to them.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Jon takes that opportunity to bring them into the kitchen. Both Lorien and Mother look disapproving when they see me. I guess there's some things even Vulcans aren't used to.

"To the beach." The only problem with trying to mimic Daddy is that I can't hold the pose and talk at the same time.

"Not like that you aren't. You go right upstairs and put some clothes on before you even _think_ of leaving the house." Which is stupid, because I_ am _wearing clothes, even if it's a cut-off t-shirt and cut-off jeans. But I _am_ going to the beach.

With his hands Daddy says even more. "And don't tell me that was your only reason for trying to head out the back door. Now, your Mother and Lorien are here…"

"Yeah, I can see that." I refuse to look at them. My summer is ruined, entirely.

"Ivy…" Daddy warns. "You will…"

I turn and storm out to the garage where I do my sculpture and frame-building work. I hear Daddy hurriedly apologising before he comes after me. By the time he gets out here, I have my ear-protectors on, and the welding torch lit, so I can pretend not to notice him.

"Ivy," He knows better though. "_Ivy_." He's starting to speak through clenched teeth. He reaches around and turns off the welding torch, then snatches my mask and ear protectors off of my head. "Now you know better than to handle this stuff dressed like that, so we're not even going to discuss it."

I turn to face him, but say nothing.

"Now you turn around, and you go back in there, and you apologise, you understand?"

"I've got nothing to apologise for."

Daddy's face hardens. He's _really_ mad. "Ivy, what did we talk about?"

"I don't care."

Daddy gives me that look that says he's past the point of rational. Then he holds up my car keys so I can see them. I watch, horrified, as he clamps one end into a vice and simply twists the other end until the key snaps. Then he holds up the ruined end in his hand, so I can get a good look at what he's done. "I don't think you're responsible enough to have a car."

"You bastard." I don't say anything more, just hit him with both hands on the chest. Before I can hit him again, Jon grabs my elbows.

"I think we've had this discussion, Ivy. Now I might not entirely agree with what your dad just did, but he does have a point. What you just did was excessively rude, and entirely unnecessary."

"Ivy," Daddy stops vocalising – he knows how well Vulcans can hear, and he obviously wants this to be a private discussion. Probably to be 'polite.' "I'd like to think that we've raised you better than that."

"Guess not." It's a bad response, but I don't care. After all, I'm talking to the person who ruined my plans for the entire summer. Just because _he_ has this desire to spend time with people I barely know, doesn't mean _I_ should have to spend time with the same people. Because I _know_ if I try to go anywhere, I'm going to be told to take Lorien with me, which means that none of my friends are going to want to stick around – because a Vulcan brother can simply _destroy_ a party – and worse, I won't be able to really spend some quality time with Kyle, because Lorien would probably rat us out, and then both of us could kiss our butts goodbye.

"Ivy." Jon drops a friendly arm around my shoulders, which only means one thing. I am in big, big trouble. "I realise that this may be difficult for you to comprehend, but despite what this past eight years may have led you to believe, you are not, and never have been an only child. You have a brother. I'd like you to stop treating him as such."

"What?" Usually Jon's capable of making sense.

"I'm saying knock off the sibling rivalry at least until you get to know your sibling. You want to be more human? Fine. Human culture places a premium on family." Jon tightens his grip, and shakes me a bit.

"On their heads, maybe." This _whole_ family is starting to get to me.

Jon grins. It's getting worse. "Ivy, I like to think that despite the generational gap, this family communicates very well. However, let me phrase it as I would to a very good friend of your father's: you will go in, you will apologise, you will be polite. And I hope your room is comfortable, because when these two weeks are up, you will be spending a lot of time there. I am delaying your grounding because Lorien has never been to San Francisco, and I think it would be very nice if you were to show him around."

"And not to any of your usual haunts, either." Daddy warns. "I want him in one piece."

I roll my eyes. It's not like I go anywhere really strange… as far as San Francisco is concerned, anyway.

"So we're agreed then. Ivy starts acting like a human being – difficult as it may be at her age. And we pretend to be a normal, level-headed family." Jon smacks me lightly on the side of the head.

"Even Mother's not dense enough to buy that one." Only Kyle's family qualifies as less normal and level-headed than ours. "Besides, I agreed to nothing."

"Yes, you did. Otherwise…" Jon leans in close and mutters three words in my ear.

"Fine. I'll apologise." I won't be happy about it though.

"Good." He reaches over and uses two fingers to force up the edges of my mouth. "Now let's smile, and be friendly."

I smile, but it's not friendly. Jon doesn't seem to care, but Daddy's staring at him rather intently. He wants to know what Jon told me – and when Daddy really wants something, Jon can be manipulated almost as easily as Daddy can. I am so dead.

We head back into the kitchen where Mother and Lorien are still waiting. Mother is wearing a blank expression, while Lorien just looks confused. When he sees me, he looks worried.

"Are you unwell, sister?"

Unwell? "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why is your hair that colour?"

Even though they're standing behind me, I know that Daddy and Jon are sharing twin looks of amusement. Mother simply raises her eyebrow and I know she doesn't think I'm sick – at least physically – but is wondering about the second query.

"You got a problem with my hair?" I just had it done, and I don't really care if he likes it or not.

"Charles…" There's only one reason for Mother to be _that_ formal with Daddy, and it's because she wants a straight answer, and knows there's only one way to get it.

"Well… um… you remember Malcolm, right?" Daddy edges towards the door again. Now he wants to escape.

"I recall that he had rather normal looking hair." Mother narrows her eyes, still not taking her gaze from my head.

"Well… you, um… know he married Nic, right? Nic Hess, my department second? Nic?" His fingers twitch as he tries to dance around the question. It doesn't come as a surprise to me that Auntie Nic and Mother were hardly close friends. For one thing, Auntie Nic can be even more protective of Daddy than I can, and for another, she would never have settled just for pink streaks.

"And you think that this is an appropriate role model…" I can tell by Mother's tone that she expected Auntie Nic to be the answer all along, but the confirmation doesn't make her happy.

"Hey, she's intelligent. She's well-read… and don't try and tell me that _Malcolm_ isn't a good influence. Hell, there are times I wish Ivy was _more_ like their kids…" Which is to say that none of them would have gotten mad and stormed out like I did. I mean Colin might have ripped the cupboard door off as a warning, but Auntie Nic and Uncle Malcolm are even better at the tag-team lecture than Daddy and Jon are. Not to mention that it's hard to find a display of temper and violence that leaves them very impressed. The first time I pulled something while I was over there, Uncle Malcolm just pointed out all the wrong ways I'd been holding the knife, and Auntie Nic mentioned that if I was planning on using one, it probably wasn't a good idea to dull it by jamming it into the table _first_. Since the whole point of the exercise had been to make them fear me (I didn't get along with Auntie Nic too well at the time), I quickly came to the conclusion that it hadn't worked. Daddy and Jon just stared at the two of them, while I headed off into the corner to sulk. People who think _Vulcans_ are calm in the face of danger never spent two months living in that household.

"Do you want to see my tattoo?" I don't have a tattoo, but I don't figure they'll take me up on it either. In the reflection from the glass of the cabinet doors, I see Daddy shoot Jon a look, and Jon shake his head.

Mother's eyebrows practically move to opposite ends of her face. "Your…"

"She doesn't have a tattoo." Daddy sounds exasperated now. On the other hand, I still fail to see how he thought that this arrangement would work: they haven't even been here for twenty minutes, and already Mother and Daddy are fighting.

"That's right," I agree. "Auntie Nic says I should definitely wait until I'm at least twenty-one. Then almost everything that's going to grow will have grown." Mother's face gets colder, and Daddy's turns red.

"Ivy…" Jon's voice _sounds_ friendly, but there's a definite warning in it. However, since he's got the only remaining keys to my car, it's probably best to listen.

I turn to Lorien. "Well, you're supposed to be staying in my room. It's this way." I sigh a little as I lead the way. It was such a _nice_ car, too.

Lorien stops dead at the door to my room, and just stares.

"Thank you. I put a lot of time and thought into it." In the back of the group, Daddy's twisting his hands around like he's breaking my neck. The sheets I'd put up over the walls while Daddy was looking are now back in the closet, and so is the rug he got for the sole purpose of covering most of my floor.

"It is… interesting," Lorien manages. He's staring at my graffiti wall, and hasn't even noticed that the floorboards are inlaid with horror movie posters, or that my bed has a large replica of the one for 'Fight Club' on it. Lorien better get used to pink soap.

"Actually, the entire thing has been painted by hand." Jon makes his way in and taps the graffiti wall. "Ivy did it herself."

"Indeed." Mother actually sounds semi-impressed. She should be, actually. I've spent years on that wall and haven't got it finished yet. It took me two years just to get all the bricks painted in, to give me a background surface. I add to it when the mood strikes – a tag here, a thought there. I've got an entire Robert Frost poem written on one single brick, so that it looks like the letters are just part of the construction. Some of it's symbology from different religions – and not just Earth ones either. Some of it is designs that were creeping around in my head; some of it's just stuff I was feeling at the time. There's no logic or pattern to the layout: graffiti isn't about logic; it's about rebellion and anarchy. But when Jon said I could have the attic for my room, he also said I could decorate it any way I liked, provided that I did the work. Daddy put up some walls so I could have my own bathroom and a small studio/workroom too. But it's always been _my_ space, which is why sharing it with Lorien feels so wrong.

They look around slowly, trying to absorb it all, which is impossible on the first try. The wall beside my bed has a giant wave curling on it, getting ready to make the perfect pipe. Lorien looks slightly uneasy when he sees it – there aren't a lot of oceans on Vulcan, and this one looks like it could come crashing into the room. I've covered the small round window at the top with yellow cellophane, so it looks like the sun over water. My animals take up most of another wall – shelves and open faced cabinets fence them in.

I'm more watching Mother's reaction (which will probably influence Daddy's overall one), so I don't see Lorien ignoring the sign until he screams.

"Ivy!" Daddy screams just about as loud, running to Lorien's side. He takes Lorien's hand which is now bleeding from several small puncture marks.

"Oh, so I'm to blame because he can't read." I pick up my bear from the floor and check him for damage while heading to get Lorien a cloth for his hand. After all, the notice clearly states that the animals are dangerous and not to tease them. Buddy recognises me though, so he doesn't bite.

"I'm sorry," Daddy says. "Ivy's toys are a little vicious."

"Micro-robotics," Jon clarifies, not looking worried at all. "That would be Trip's influence. I'm not sure where the twisted obsession with camouflaged weapons comes from, but we can probably guess."

I shrug and put Buddy back in his place and smooth his fur. Then I turn around to where Daddy is fussing over a minor wound. "Buddy is hardly a camouflaged weapon. For one thing, I _posted_ the fact that they are dangerous. And for another, everybody with half a brain knows that bears bite."

"Not pink stuffed ones," Daddy answers.

"Look at the bright side. His teeth are sharp." Of course, they're also narrow and pointed like cat teeth. Which means that they go in deep and germs can get trapped inside.

"Ivy… your toy just seriously attacked your brother. There is no bright side."

There is for me. After all, eight years ago, he used to attack me. Now he might think twice about that. They're right. Revenge _is_ kind of sweet.

"I'm taking him to Emergency." Daddy clamps Lorien's other hand over the cloth. "T'Pol, you'd better come with me." He shakes a finger in my direction. "You and I are going to have a talk when we get back." The look he gives Jon says that Jon's liable to be included in one of those, too.

I flop back onto my bed as they walk out the door, and stare at the ceiling. I really have to get to work on those rafters at some point – it's the one area of the room I haven't changed yet.

"You know, Ivy, your Dad's right. You really should be a little more careful with those. Most people wouldn't be aware of the risk. They _do_ just look like regular stuffed animals." Jon waits until they're gone before turning back to me.

"So? This is supposed to be _my_ room. Nobody should be playing with them anyway." This is so frustrating. Even when it's not my fault, I'm getting in trouble for it. "If he'd asked for permission before touching them…" Vulcans are supposed to be the masters of polite. I had absolutely no reason to expect Lorien to go reaching for any of my animals.

"That's why I'm not mad at you." Jon sits down on the foot of my bed. "At least not for that… and I'll have a word with your Dad when he comes home. He's just a little on edge right now."

"Speaking of Daddy… you didn't play fair."

Jon raises his eyebrows. "Fair?"

"'Water-polo scam?'" That's what he said to me downstairs. "You know if Daddy finds out about Kyle it'll probably give him a heart-attack. _Then_ he'll tell Auntie Nic, and she'll kill Kyle." Kyle goes to Stanford – he's going to do Law school like his mother did – and he worked his way onto the water-polo team so he can pretend to come over to talk to Jon about the game. Jon knows about Kyle and me, but he also knows that Daddy's overprotective.

"Ah, but I knew you'd protect the both of them." He taps my foot. "And legally – while we're speaking of Kyle and his mother – I am your father. I don't have to play fair." That's one thing Auntie Nic warned me about Jon. He always wins. She swears he was a lawyer in another life – or maybe this one and won't admit it.

I stick my tongue out at him – I have no other comeback.

"On the other hand, you're still grounded. This is _not_ a nice thing of yours…" He waves his hand around the room.

"I've worked hard on this. I'm supposed to suppress my personality for someone who's going to be here for two weeks?"

"You could have left the rug down, Ivy. Vulcans don't tend to enjoy scenes of blood-spatter and decaying flesh. And you could have flipped over the quilt."

"There is nothing wrong with this quilt… he probably won't understand the reference, anyway." If he was _human,_ he probably wouldn't understand the reference. Most humans aren't that knowledgeable about classic movies. Which is why I'm sure he _really_ wouldn't understand the 'Frank-the-Rabbit' ears on top of the headboard.

"Ivy, you're pushing it. Speaking of this room: where is Lorien's bed?"

I point towards my studio. "This is _my_ room, Jon. I'm not sharing. Especially not if he snores, or grinds his teeth, or talks in his sleep, or any other number of bad habits he might have inherited." Daddy and I shared a room when we first got here, and he is not a quiet sleeper.

"I'll admit, that can be annoying." Jon looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"And I would have no way of shutting him up that wouldn't upset Daddy." Somehow I think Daddy'd interpret me holding a pillow over Lorien's face as a sign I'm trying to kill my brother. It wouldn't be of course – if I was going to commit murder, I'd be a lot cleverer about it.

"Show me the studio, Ivy." I think Jon wants to make sure I haven't booby-trapped it or something. I haven't. The way I see it, if Lorien gets badly hurt, he might need medical attention, and they'll have to stick around longer. Since what I would prefer would be if they left quickly – there's a fine line I've got to walk here.

When Jon is done with his inspection, he seems satisfied. The decorations in here lend themselves more to 'blank canvas.' I don't want to over-influence myself and get locked into a pattern. In fact, he seems impressed. "This is a very good compromise, Ivy. Very thoughtful."

I can't help it. It's just not fair: eight years ago it was always Lorien who was the perfect child, and if there were problems it was my fault. He beat up on me and nobody said anything, but if I even _tried_ to fight back it was 'Ivy, stop picking on your brother.' Now, it's the same thing all over again. Lorien messes with my things, and it's _my_ fault he gets hurt – it wouldn't have happened if he had asked. He comes in, and it's _my_ life that has to change. _He's_ the one who's not supposed to be worried about feelings, but nobody seems to give a damn about mine.

I wait until he's gone before heading back into my studio. I'm thinking the last thing I want is thoughtful. It doesn't matter much, really. Walls can be repainted. I'm sure they'll all figure out something. Without me.


	3. Troubled Waters

Disclaimer: I own neither _Enterprise_ or its characters.

Author's note: BTW: anyone who wonders about a girl named Charley… that's my cousin's name too, and her dad is a Charles. Thanks again to my betas.

Chapter 3: Troubled Waters

I stare down at the water, concentrating. I shouldn't be here – not on my own. This isn't safe. But I need something… I'm tired of being the one to compromise. Here, there is no compromise. Here, it's only me. I focus on pushing all thoughts out of my mind until there is only me and the water. I ignore everything else: the danger, the risk… I ignore it all. I don't even hear the door open and close, barely register the echoes of hard shoes on concrete bouncing off these massive walls. But even focus cannot keep out the yells.

"Ivy. You come down from there, right now!" Daddy's angry, but I try to block him out.

"Charley Elizabeth!" When he starts using my legal name, it means he's getting _very _mad. I decide to do what he says.

I descend, absorbed in every twist and spin, slicing into the water, though not as perfectly as I would have liked. The entries are always the hardest – I always kick up a bit of a splash.

I surface in front of Daddy's feet, but ignore the hand that reaches down to me. Instead, I wait for him to back up before hoisting myself out of the pool.

"What the hell is your problem?" He drops my towel over my head, indicating that he wants me to hurry up. He's got my bag in his hand and my clothes tucked under his arm, obviously he doesn't even want to give me a chance to change. "Are you having trouble with basic English?"

I glare at him, but say nothing. I've got nothing _to_ say.

"And do you have any idea how stupid that was?" He gestures over at the tower. "Basic safety says that you've got someone here in case of an emergency. What if you'd fallen? Not to mention the fact that you broke in here… do you know how hard it's going to be to convince the school not to press charges?"

I don't care. "Maybe you shouldn't then. Maybe you should just let me go to jail. Then I'll be off your hands and you can decorate my room any damn way you want. And then Lorien can stay in there forever, and you can have your perfect son!"

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Daddy doesn't wait for an answer, just hustles me outside and into his car. Only when we're on the road does he continue. "Ivy, what is going on with you? I ask for a few simple things, and all you can do is start acting like you're three years old. As for… _that_, I don't even want to think about it. You are absolutely unreal."

I stare out the window, trying not to react. I've been dreading those words, and now he's said them. When we get home, I'm out of the car before he even has it fully stopped. Mother and Lorien are in the kitchen with Jon, but I keep going past them. Daddy doesn't bother to follow me. I hear him throw his keys on the counter-top and start complaining.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with her. Her only comment…" His voice fades away the farther I get up the stairs. I don't want to deal with any of them.

I hear my door open behind me, and Jon crosses the floor to look in my studio and bathroom. I know it's him from the sound of his footsteps and his breathing. Everybody's got a different style of breathing, and from the sound of Jon's, he's trying not to lose his temper. Failing to find me in the other rooms, he checks my closet, but I'm not there, either.

"Ivy, I know you're in here." He speaks directly to the wall. "We need to have a talk."

No we don't. The nice thing about being mute is that it's easier to stay out of a conversation – especially when the other person isn't looking at you. I watch him from my perch up in the rafters. He doesn't even bother to look for me anymore.

"I thought we covered this a long time ago. You can't deal with every disagreement by running away. And I know that's what you were doing."

Maybe not, but I know when I'm not wanted. Daddy couldn't even be bothered to come up here. He's still down there talking to Mother and Lorien. I know now – if he'd had a choice, he would have taken Lorien with him when he left, not me. I didn't give him a choice; I made him take me with him.

"I know your Dad seems mad, but you know as well as I do that he gets that way when he's scared. Taking off like that? You _know_ something like that's going to set him off. He worries about you. And breaking into the school _was_ stupid, and diving on your own _was_ reckless. And I know your Dad probably did similar things when he was your age, but that's why it scares him so much. He just doesn't want anything to happen to you."

I wish I could believe that, but Jon wasn't there. He wasn't there earlier, and he wasn't there back on Vulcan, either. He didn't have to deal with the teachers who wondered why I couldn't be more like my brother. He wasn't there when Mother and Daddy asked the same questions. Now that Daddy has a chance to get Lorien back… I'm good with pictures, so I know when I don't fit into one. Daddy wasn't scared, he was just plain mad.

Besides, I know the truth: I'm not supposed to exist at all. Back when the attic was just storage area, I used to spend a lot of time up here, time on my own. I found some of Jon's old journals – 'Personal Logs' in Starfleet speech, but journals nonetheless – and I discovered that Lorien is special. Not only is Lorien 'supposed to be' but he saved everybody by sacrificing himself. I – on the other hand – was non-existent. Or as Daddy said: unreal.

I don't dare breathe. He'd hear me, as the air fought its way through my clogged up nose. It's bad enough that I'm crying. I don't need Jon to see that, or for Mother and Lorien to find out. They'd all tell me I was being stupid or overemotional – the only people who understand what it's like are Uncle Malcolm and Auntie Nic. I asked them about it, because I couldn't ask Jon or Daddy. But they know what it's like to disappear – to become a part of the background until you're not there at all. That's why Auntie Nic acts so crazy, and Uncle Malcolm sometimes works so hard to be perfect. They understand that sometimes you have to force reality to notice you, or you might as well not be there.

Finally, Jon walks away, and I'm alone again. There's a long while before anyone else comes in, and it's Lorien. He doesn't even bother to look around, just goes straight into the studio and goes to bed.

I don't move, even when morning comes. Lorien gets up, uses the bathroom and then leaves. I've got a familiar pain in my stomach now. It's not hunger: if I eat, I'll throw up. Pretty soon my head's going to hurt, and I won't be able to see straight. It's like I'm a foreign object to the universe, and its immune system is attacking me. It's useless to fight, and this time I don't want to. Time passes, the sun gets higher, but I stay.

Lorien must have left the window open in the studio, because I hear voices outside. It's the rest of them, and from the conversation, it sounds like they're going to a baseball game. Which is all the proof I need, because Daddy never takes me to those. Not that I'd want to go – I'd rather spend time at the beach, or at the pool. I've never understood the thrill of watching sports when you could take part in them instead. But what I want isn't the point, which in a strange way is. It's more proof that I don't matter.

Matter. From a physics point of view, matter means substance. If something is matter, it is real. Real estate, real assets, realia… they all refer to things of a material nature. Matter. Thus, I'm not real. Though if I'm not real, then this existence is nothing to me.

I tune them out, reducing them to a background blur. Then the doors on the car slam, and I hear it pull away.

"Ivy." I hear Daddy's voice from the doorway, and it doesn't make sense. He's gone, so how can he be here? I open my eyes to see him looking straight at me. "Come down here, right now."

I look away and close my eyes again. It hurts too much to keep them open.

"Come. Down. Now." Each word is its own sentence, he's being very careful with what he says.

I won't, I can't, and he doesn't really want me to anyway.

"Ivy, what is going on with you?" He sounds irritated, as though my simply being here is something he could do without.

I shrug, but otherwise say nothing.

"No. Don't give me that. Don't tell me that you don't know, or you don't care, or that you don't think that there's a problem. Now come down here and talk to me. Please."

I shake my head. I already know what he'll say. He'll deny the truth, and he'll ask where I come up with these ideas. Except they're _not_ ideas, I've seen the words with my own eyes. "Go to your game, Daddy."

"No. I told them we'd meet them there, but not until you and I talk about this. And I want you down here." Daddy's afraid of heights, just like he is of spiders. He hates it when I come up here, and he uses that fear as his pretext for not coming to a lot of my diving competitions. He says he's afraid something's going to happen to me, but it's just an excuse. I don't move though – once again, it's simply about what he wants, and I'm not supposed to have an opinion.

He closes his eyes, looking like he's going to be sick. "Ivy. Please." He squeezes the bridge of his nose, like he does when he's frustrated.

I drop to the floor, not bothering to climb down. He wants me down, fine… I'm down. I still don't look at him, though.

"Thank you. Now can you tell me why we can't even get through one day…"

I clamp my hands over my ears. I am not going to listen to this. And I close my eyes, so he can't talk to me that way, either.

"Ivy." He pulls my hands away, and looks me in the eye when I open them to glare at him. "Don't do this. Don't pretend that you didn't spend all yesterday trying to get my attention. Fine. You've got it. Now you can tell me why you want it." He lets my hands go, so I can respond.

I shrug again.

"Not good enough Ivy. Now, you haven't got Jon or anyone else here to run interference for you. And we are not leaving here until we hammer this out. Okay?"

"Why are we suddenly going to baseball games?" I know the answer. It's for Lorien.

"What?"

I twist away from him and get a small box from the top shelf of my closet. Inside is an old-style removable memory chip. I insert it into a padd and pull up the date. I know it by heart, now. I hand it to Daddy. "I know the truth. You can stop lying to me."

He reads it and swallows hard. "Where did you find this?"

"It doesn't matter. I know, Daddy. Lorien's the special one… I'm not supposed to be here."

"How the hell can you say that?" He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "Because in _one_ alternate timeline somewhere we _didn't_ happen to run into you? If all that were the truth, then I'd be dead. All right? Apparently, there, I didn't survive past his twelfth birthday. That doesn't _mean_ anything." He looks at the padd again and shakes his head. "How long have you had this?"

Long enough. Long enough that I know it verbatim. It talks about Lorien, and mentions how Daddy taught him to play catch, and throw a football, and so many other things Daddy and I have never done. I don't say anything though. I'm tired of hearing lies.

"Honey, you are _definitely_ supposed to be here. When I found out that it was twins… I was so happy, you have no idea. The day you were born was probably the best day of my life." He walks me over to the bed, so we can sit down. He's crying, and it takes a moment before he can continue. "And then the doctors said that you might not make it… you were so tiny and fragile. They kept you in intensive care for three days, and I couldn't eat or sleep and I didn't want to leave your side. Your mother took care of Lorien – he was okay. And when they finally let me hold you, and you looked up at me… I knew I'd found the most special thing in my life. And I was scared to let anybody else touch you, even your mother." He smiles, but it's sad. "That did _not_ help things between us. But I wanted to protect you, I didn't want anything to happen to you. Now, I've done a lot of things wrong in my life, but you are not one of them."

"But Lorien's always been…"

"Honey, I've got a lot to make up to your brother. Those first few days… I was barely aware that I even _had_ a son. I was so worried about you. And all those fights… it terrified me when I'd see you with a bruise or a cut. And when you first started surfing and when you wanted to get into diving… I didn't want to let you. I was so afraid that you'd get hurt." I remember that. Jon had to convince him to let me try almost anything.

I turn away. It's all so messed up. It's still me… if I hadn't been sick…

"This is not your fault." Daddy pulls me into a hug, then lets me go and holds my face in his hands, so he can look at me. "I know you like to take responsibility for everything… it's the one bad habit of mine that you've picked up." He swallows again. "Hang on." He leaves and goes downstairs, but comes back carrying a small box. There's a picture and a couple of things inside. I've never seen them before.

He takes out the picture and hands it to me. It's a blonde lady and she looks somewhat familiar. Just something in the eyes and the cheekbones, but I feel I'm supposed to know her.

"That's your Aunt Elizabeth." He looks like he's trying not to cry again. "She died before you were born."

Daddy doesn't talk about his family much. I knew I'd been named after someone other than just Daddy, but I never knew who she was. She looks kind of like Daddy, and Lorien. One of the family. Not like me.

"You remind me so much of her. The way you smile, the way you hold your head sometimes," he smiles just a little. "The way you can be so grumpy in the morning when it's time for school…"

I trace a finger around the picture. She doesn't look anything like me, but according to Daddy…

"I mean, if I were the type to believe in reincarnation… you may look like your mother, but I swear sometimes that it's just a mask and you're going to take it off…" he takes a deep breath. "That's one of the reasons why I'd like to see you and Lorien getting along. Once you lose somebody, there is no going back. You can't tell them that you didn't mean the nasty things you said, or make up for the times that you took each other for granted… there is no more 'later' for you to do that in. _That's_ why I always wanted you to go back to visit, I wasn't trying to get rid of you, or anything like that. I just don't want you to be sorry, or one day regret the fact that you didn't take the time."

I never knew any of this. I sometimes wondered why I got the family name when Lorien was the one who was born first, and the boy, and looked like Daddy. I thought it was because Mother named Lorien, and Daddy named me. I didn't know that I almost died, or that Daddy kept watch over me. I didn't know about Auntie Elizabeth.

"So don't you ever go thinking that you're not precious to me. I love you more than anything else. Okay?"

I nod, and he pulls me into another hug. When he lets me go, he digs into the box again, and pulls out a small necklace with a heart-shaped pendant on it. It looks beat up and damaged.

"It's a locket… I've got no idea how it survived, but it did. So few things made it… I gave it to her for her birthday one year." He shows me the latch on the side, and how it opens. There's words inside, engraved into the metal. _To the world's best sister. Best friends, forever and for always._ An L and a T bracket the words. When I ask, Daddy tells me that the 'L' means Lizzie, because that's what he used to call her. Daddy snaps the locket shut, then fastens the chain around my neck. Then he takes me by the shoulders and smiles.

"Are we okay now, punk?"

I nod. He hasn't called me that in years. My hands are shaking, so it's hard for me to talk.

"Okay. Now, come on. Let's go get some ice-cream, and then we'll join up with them at the game." His smile takes on a wry quality. "By the time we get there, it should be mostly over, and there'll be less for us to suffer through. It's one thing to play it, but sitting there _watching_ the pitcher scratch his ass while he makes up his mind…" Daddy shudders.

"Then do you _hate_ Lorien?" I can't resist. "Why would you make him watch that…"

Daddy laughs. "Ask your father. This great adventure was Jon's idea, not mine. Why that man is so in love with the tedious things in life, I don't know."

"Are you calling yourself 'tedious,' Daddy?" It seems like Daddy and I have been fighting so much lately, that I miss these moments where we just tease each other and decide to be ridiculous.

"I am the sole exception to that rule," he says loftily. "Well, me, and his choice in cars. Which, by the way, still does not mean that you get the sports car back. And I am still questioning what wisdom lays in letting him teach you how to drive."

"Because he knows how?" Jon's always bugging Daddy about his driving skills, even saying that Daddy was the first person ever to dent _Enterprise_. Daddy swats at me, but he laughs.

I grab something to work on from my desk – if Daddy finds baseball tedious, then I'm going to need _something_ to occupy my mind – and we go. Maybe Daddy's right about Lorien and me, and maybe not but I owe it to Daddy and Auntie Elizabeth to try.


End file.
